


Operation Punisher

by onebatch2batch



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Dress unzipping trope used, F/M, Jess and Trish and Karen are friends, Not ashamed, Pining Karen, alcohol involved, awkward frank, fight me on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 03:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13561656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebatch2batch/pseuds/onebatch2batch
Summary: Jess and Trish have had quite enough of Karen and Frank dancing around each other, thank you very much. Alcohol and plans are involved.





	Operation Punisher

**Author's Note:**

> Give Karen girl friends or give me DEATH

In the short time Karen Page has worked for the Bulletin, she’s met people from all walks of life, from all over the city. Some of these people have been incredibly dangerous, and have threatened her (see: Lewis Wilson, Fisk)—but there are others who have significantly improved her life, as well. This includes people like Trish Walker and Jessica Jones. 

Karen has never really been someone who kept a lot of friends. She’s a private person; she keeps her business to herself. She doesn’t have the time—and if she’s being honest, patience—to form relationships based on false truths. She’s always been someone of an “all of nothing” kind of girl; this means friendships where she can’t be her authentic self usually don’t last long. But then she gets assigned to a story and finds herself in the apartment-slash-office of P.I. Jessica Jones, and they hit it off almost immediately. Karen admires the way Jessica doesn’t dance around her problems, her immense strength (physically and otherwise), and her blunt wit. And when Jessica introduces Karen to Trish Walker, Karen is content to expand her circle just a little more.

 

\--

 

After a few months of knowing one another, they form a schedule. Every three weeks they meet at Josie’s to catch up and more importantly, drink. Jessica is incredibly good at the drinking, and Trish at the catching up, and Karen is just happy to have women in her life that she can talk openly with.

It’s a cold night in November when they gather around their usual table at Josie’s. The music is loud and the patrons louder, but it provides a nice cover for them to speak comfortably and openly. Trish talks about one of her creepy, borderline stalker listeners with disdain. Jessica catches them up on how the Defenders are doing (sans Matt—that wound is still to raw for either of them to discuss) and Karen—well Karen is surprisingly, the most mundane of the group. In fact, since the Punisher is around scaring off criminals, she’s been assigned fluff pieces with the occasional criminal piece. Really, the only significant thing in her life currently is—

“Your giant, simpering hard-on for that Punisher dick.”

Karen grabs for the bottle in the middle of the table and pours herself another shot, glaring at Jessica. “Can you please stop calling it that?”

Jess snorts at her, amused. “Calling it anything different would be a crime to humanity. So, no. It’s about time you did something about it. You deserve that Punisher dick, Page.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs, throwing back her shot. They’re all much closer to drunk than they were a few hours ago, and the flush on Karen’s cheeks isn’t helped by Jessica’s words. “It’s complicated,” she says in her defense.

Trish grimaces knowingly. “Come on, Karen. You always say that. And I know there’s like….boundaries…but I find it hard to believe someone like Frank Castle would do everything he’s done for anyone other than you.”

“Yeah, hasn’t he taken like… _several_ bullets for you?” Jess asks, arching a brow.

Karen huffs, crossing her arms on the table. “Yeah, but.”

They stare at her, but she has nothing to say in response. They’re right, Frank has gone above and beyond to protect her from harm. His ability to put himself between her and death is a constant source of anxiousness for her, and honestly, it only adds onto the list of reasons why she’s attracted to him.

She grumbles. “Alright, whatever. But I don’t even…know. What to do. What if he’s not ready?”

Karen’s never been afraid of going after what she wants—and she knows she wants Frank. But she also knows Frank is a man struggling with the loss of his family, the betrayal of his best friend, and the fallout of being a criminal on the run for so long. She wants to give him the time he needs to find himself in his after, as she’d once called it. And if he needed her to be a friend, and a friend only, then she would.

Trish shrugs, giving her a sympathetic look. “You wont know until you try. Maybe he’s clueless about how you feel.”

“Or maybe…what if he just wants to be friends?” Karen asks, hesitant. Frank is a good man, and she wouldn’t be surprised if risking his life is just the way he expressed that friendship.

“Yeah but you don’t _know_ he only wants to be friends. Maybe he thinks that’s what _you_ want.” Trish counters.

Jess is nodding, filling her glass. “You have to make the first move.” She takes a drink then gives Karen a meaningful look. “And by the way, Page, remind me when the last time you got laid was?”

Karen groans, pushing her hair out of her face. She mumbles something along the lines of “ _fuck you, Jess_ ” and drinks again. The past few months have been rough—in an attempt to get over her crush on Frank, she has attempted to throw herself into the dating scene. Mostly boring men with boring jobs, who almost never make it in for coffee at the end of the night. She always finds something wrong—their hair is too long, their eyes aren’t dark enough, their finger doesn’t tap restlessly in the breaks in conversation, they don’t laugh low in their throat like Frank does.

It’s been awhile. “Alright, what do I do, then?”

Jess’ smile is absolutely impish. “Great, Operation Punisher Dick is a-go!”

Trish snickers as Karen huffs, sneaking a glance at nearby tables nervously. “Can-can we not call it that, either?”

“No chance. Get out your phone—we’re texting loverboy.”

 

\--

 

Jess and Trish’s plan goes as follows: Karen is to take another shot (for luck), then text Frank to pick her up. When they get to her apartment she will invite him up and hit on him, and that is that. As Trish says _you’ll confess, he’ll confess, you’ll hook up, and none of this worrying will have been worth it_.

What actually happens is this:

Karen texts Frank— _can u pick me up? @ josie’s. want to tlk_ and after two minutes, realizes that he’s not going to answer. She immediately drops her head into her hands and groans. “This was an awful idea.”

Trish holds her hands out placatingly. “Come on, Karen, just give him some time. Tell us about work.”

Karen forces herself to calm down and start talking. Jess pours her another drink and by the time Karen stands to go to the bathroom twenty minutes later, she’s a little wobbly on her heels. She makes it across the bar and finds herself in front of one of the bathroom mirrors, staring at herself critically. She’s still in her work clothes, and her hair is, shockingly, not as bad as she imagined. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are glassy as they look back at her. She holds onto the sink and takes a deep, centering breath. So what if Frank doesn’t answer her tonight? She’ll just make up some excuse, say she forgot what she wanted to talk about, and that will be the end of it. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.

She sighs and shakes her head, then heads into the stall. When she exits the bathroom she can see the back of someone in the chair she had just vacated. Her lips twist into an annoyed frown. Usually the patrons at Josie’s keep to themselves, but there’s always one guy who things his drunken compliments will impress one of them. She starts back over, already slapping on her _get lost, creep_ look, but the man turns around and oh, that’s Frank.

“Hey,” he greets smoothly, eyes sweeping over her dumbfounded expression, “got your text.”

Karen’s not sure what’s more obvious—the shit-eating grins on her friend’s faces or the way she sways as she stands. She clears her throat and tries to force her words into something semi-sober. “Hi, um. Thanks. I didn’t realize you were coming. I’m a little…drunk.”

His smile is amused as he stands. “So I see. Ready to go?”

She nods jerkily. “Yeah, yep. Oh, um, have you met—“

“Oh, we’ve met,” Jessica drawls, cutting her off. Karen blinks at her, then narrows her eyes in a _you didn’t tell me that_ stare. “Have him tell you that story sometime. Ain’t that right, Francis?”

Frank gives her an unamused stare, then tilts his ball cap at Trish politely. “Ma’am, name’s…Pete.”

She smiles at him warmly. “Hi, I’m Trish. I’m the one who doesn’t go jumping around on rooftops at night.”

He chuckles. “Pleasure.”

Karen shrugs on her coat, watching as Jess waves her fingers tauntingly. “Take care of our girl, Castle.”

He gives her a strange look, then turns and gestures to Karen who follows him out into the cold night. The cool air feels refreshing on her face and she’s only partially relieved when they get into his Mustang to drive off. She stares out the window and attempts to figure out exactly what she’s going to say, but the alcohol is making forming coherent thoughts impossible. Eventually Frank clears his throat.

“You’re not plannin’ on tossin’ your cookies in my car, right?”

Karen turns to flash him a smile, instinctively relaxing at his joke. “Nope. Never been one of those girls that throw up after drinking.”

“Small blessings.” His eyes roam over her face curiously, but whatever questions is on his mind, he doesn’t ask. They sit in silence until he parks outside of her building, killing the engine.

“Wanna come up?”

Karen is proud to hear the anxiousness has gone from her voice. Yes, she’s nervous, and a little excited, but this is Frank, her friend, and he’d dropped whatever he was doing to be her protector—again. He gives her another cursory glance before nodding and they make their way up to her apartment.

Inside, Frank toes off his shoes and chuckles as Karen’s go flying across the room in her haste to step out of her heels. She lets out a soft, thankful groan before heading to the kitchen. He lingers between the living space and kitchen, leaning on the wall to watch her. Karen pretends like his gaze isn’t doing funny things to her insides and starts a pot of coffee, if only to keep her hands busy. She should say something, do something, before he makes an excuse to leave, but her mind is fuzzy. She feels itchy and uncomfortable in her dress, and all she wants to do is tell him everything she’s thinking.

She doesn’t, and in fact she thinks that maybe this was a terrible idea after all. She’s not one of those people who believe in the ‘energy’ of the room, but if she did she would be lighting some incense. His gaze is heavy like lead, and he’s barely said anything, and she should just go to bed before she does something she regrets. Karen sighs and turns, avoiding his gaze. “I’m going to change. Will you be here when I come back?”

Frank nods, his eyes trailing after her as she steps into the bedroom. She closes the door and sighs, reaching behind her to unzip her dress. She struggles for a solid thirty seconds before she realizes that, in her current state, unzipping the dress on her own is not going to happen. She debates just sleeping in the dress, and doesn’t realize how long she stands there until Frank knocks softly on the door.

“Karen? You alright?”

“Um...actually. Can you come in here?”

There’s the briefest of pauses before Frank pushes open the door and steps inside. He looks her up and down before glancing around the room. “What’s wrong?”

Karen feels her blush returning and she looks at a point over his shoulder determinedly. “Can you, um, unzip me?”

Frank doesn’t answer for what seems like eternity, then he steps towards her and gestures for her to turn around. Karen turns slowly and waits, biting her lip and staring at the wall. She’s not sure what to do with her hands, suddenly, and she wrings them nervously. When Frank’s fingers meet her skin, she jumps.

“Sorry,” he breathes, carefully pulling her hair together and sweeping it over her shoulder. She feels goose bumps rising on her arms despite the heat of his body radiating at her back. She closes her eyes as his fingers touch her skin, each point of contact is feather-light, but feels as if she’s being branded. The sound of the zipper is loud in the silence of her room.

Frank gets it down to between her shoulder blades when Karen makes a decision. She turns her head just enough to watch his expression, then backs up so that she’s pressed against his front, his hand sandwiched between them. Frank sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes snap up to catch hers.

“Karen,” he says on a swallow, “what’re you doing?”

“I’m taking initiative, Frank.” Her voice is steadier than she feels. “What are you doing?”

Frank takes two steps back, and the space between them is cold. She turns slowly, reaching behind to finish unzipping the dress. His eyes watch her, throat bobbing, and he makes a strangled noise when she pushes the straps off her shoulders and the dress lands in a pile at her feet.

“Karen, you’re…you’re drunk. Yeah? Why don’t you uh, put some…clothes on.” He looks away from her, trying to save her modesty, and she steps towards him. He’s trying his hardest to be respectful, put some distance between them, but she’s persistent. Each passing moment gives her more confidence, and when she’s toe to toe with him, she sees the heat in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve been drinking,” she says after a moment. There’s a flush on his cheeks that she finds adorable and incredibly sexy. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted this.”

His expression goes slack in surprise. “You…when? How long?”

Karen doesn’t touch him; she’s made the first move, it’s up to him to decide if he wants it. Instead, she offers a small smile. “Does it matter?”

He surprises her when his expression intensifies. “It matters.”

She narrows her eyes at him, wondering if he’s just trying to put her off as long as possible. Finally, she shrugs. “I don’t know exactly. Since the day we got shot at? Since the boat? Since the elevator?”

It’s not exactly a lie. She knew that Frank was special from the beginning, and she refused to give up fighting for him, but she couldn’t recall when ‘fighting for him’ changed to ‘fighting with him’. It was as if one day he was just Frank Castle, broken man looking for vengeance—and the next, he was Frank Castle, her friend, the man she dreamed of late at night, the man she caught herself thinking of at the strangest times, she man she couldn’t stand to lose, again.

Frank hasn’t said anything. He’s looking at her with an expression she can only describe as tenderness mixed with reluctant longing. Not exactly the most encouraging expression she’s seen on a man standing in her bedroom.

“Karen,” he sighs, rubbing his neck, “I’m not--…good for you. You know that?”

Karen rolls her eyes. “Cut that out, Frank. We’re well past you _not being good for me_.”

He frowns at her, but she watches as his gaze drifts down her body, then back up slowly, like he’s memorizing every inch of bare skin. “I don’t think—“

“Jesus, Frank,” Karen groans, “I’m starting to feel very unsexy here. And kind of stupid, so if you really don’t want to do this, then don’t. But if you do then I’m going to need you to shut up and just kiss me alrea—“

She can’t even finish the words before his mouth is on hers, hungry, hands on her face, pulling her to him. Karen kisses back readily, lets the tongue swiping at her mouth inside, and throws her arms around his neck with a soft sigh. She presses against his front, the warmth of his body seeping into her skin like a radiator. “Frank,” she whines against him mouth, reaching up for his hands. She grabs them and pulls them down, giving him access to her body, and they search the skin of her hips, then up to her breasts, back down to her ass. He cups there, pulls her against him, breaks away from the kiss to press his forehead to her own.

“How drunk are you?” he says breathlessly, eyes screwed shut like he’s trying to focus. Karen smiles and leans forward, kissing the side of his mouth.

“Drunk,” she confirms, “but I know what I’m doing.”

“What, drivin’ me mad?” he mutters, and then he opens his eyes and they’re smoldering, burning her from the inside out. Karen shivers, steps backwards and forces him to follow until her the backs of her knees hit the mattress. They go tumbling down together and then his mouth is on her neck and she fumbles with his belt.

“You’re wearing all of your clothes,” she says with a grin. “Let’s change that.”

Frank finally, finally grins back at her, and she notes that he looks so much younger when he’s smiling at her like that, and then she’s not thinking about anything other than Frank, and what his mouth is doing.

 

\--

 

Karen wakes to the pinging of her phone and she reaches out with a groan, eyes screwed shut against the sunlight. She brings the phone close to her face and squints at the text on the screen, frowning.

 _Operation Punisher Dick, success?_ It reads, and then just below, _Jess, Jesus. No one agreed to that name but you. But seriously was it?_

Karen turns onto her back and feels Frank’s arm drape over her as he blinks open his eyes. He smiles tiredly and places a gentle kiss on her jaw as she types her response into the group chat.

“Who’s that?” he murmurs.

“Jess and Trish,” Karen says lightly, setting her phone down and turning to him with a smile. “Just wanted to make sure I got home okay.”

“Hmm.” He closes his eyes again and she snuggles against him chest happily, content to doze the morning away. She knows they have a lot to talk about, but she’d much rather lie here for as long as possible and bask in the delightful soreness of her body. After a moment, Frank speaks again. “Operation Punisher Dick, huh?”

Karen hears the smile in his voice and she tempers a laugh, hiding against his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And…that wasn’t my idea.”

Frank’s laughter rings in his ears, and he shifts to wrap his arm tighter around her waist, his other hand caressing her shoulder lightly. “Whatever you say.”

Her phone screen dims next to her, and her text fades into black suddenly, before the screen lights up with new texts:

_Definitely a success._

_Omg Karen!! Congrats! Tell us everything later. Coffee?_

_Told you so. Congrats, Blondie._


End file.
